In Another Lifetime

The phone vibrated softly against my palm, the glow of the screen casting shadows on my fingers. His message was still there, waiting—hanging between us like the unspoken words we never dared to say.  

"When will we meet again?"

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my heart pressing against my ribs, urging me to type something different, something real. But honesty had never been our way—not in words, at least.  

"Probably, in another lifetime. Just make sure you will come only to be mine and to make me yours."

I hit send before I could change my mind. A sharp exhale left my lips, a soundless confession only the universe could hear. I knew he wouldn't reply immediately—he never did when the words were too heavy.  

I glanced at the clock. 4:30 AM. The world outside was still wrapped in the quiet hush of dawn. My bags were packed, my tickets were ready. In a few hours, I would be on a flight away from him, from this city, from everything that had once held me captive in the most beautiful way.  

And yet, here I was, wishing time would stretch itself a little longer. I wish he would say the words he never did. I wish I could hold onto something that was never truly mine.  

---

We met six years ago in a bookstore, of all places.  

It was raining that day, a slow, rhythmic drizzle that painted the glass windows in translucent streaks. I had been standing in the aisle, my fingers tracing the spines of books, searching for something that could make me feel less alone.  

Then, a voice.  

"You know, if you're going to keep touching that book like that, you might as well buy it."  

I turned, slightly startled, and found him standing there. Dark, mischievous eyes, a half-smile that didn’t quite reach them, and a casual stance that made it seem like he belonged there, between pages and stories.  

"And if I don’t want to?" I had challenged, raising an eyebrow.  

"Then I'll have to buy it and tell you how it ends, just to annoy you."  

I had laughed that day, really laughed. And that was how it began.  

We became… something. Friends, almost lovers, never enough.  

He had a job that tied him to deadlines, and I had dreams that carried me across cities. Our timing was never right, but our connection was unwavering. We shared silences that spoke louder than words, gazes that burned into memories.  

But he never said it.  

And I never asked him to.  

---

Now, standing at my apartment door, I let my fingers graze the handle before turning it. The hallway was empty, the air still thick with the scent of the night.  

And then—  

A vibration in my pocket.  

A message.  

"Come outside."

My breath caught. I hesitated for a moment before my feet carried me forward on their own accord. The elevator ride felt endless, my heart pounding against my ribs in anticipation.  

The doors slid open.  

And there he was.  

Leaning against his car, arms crossed, dressed in the same way, he always was—effortless, yet somehow devastating. His eyes found mine instantly, the weight of them pinning me to the spot.  

"You’re not supposed to be here," I murmured, even as my legs carried me closer.  

"I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be." His voice was steady, but I could hear the undercurrent of something deeper.  

"You didn’t reply to my message," I said, stopping just inches away from him.  

"I didn’t know how to."  

"Yet, you're here."  

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’re leaving, and I—" He stopped himself. Looked away. Then, quietly, "I just wanted to see you before you did."  

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "You’re working today. It’s not your day off."  

He smirked, but it was tinged with sadness. "You just say yes, na. My CLs are due."  

"Achhha." I tried to smile. "Still, it'll be hectic for you."  

He tilted his head slightly, studying me. "You don’t want to go with me?"  

I opened my mouth, but the words refused to come. He was making this harder.  

"I can't leave if you're there before my flight," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.  

A moment of silence stretched between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable—it was heavy, loaded with all the words we had never said.  

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against my wrist before curling into a fist and pulling away. "Then let's make this drive worth it."  

---

The city passed us by in a blur of lights and memories.  

Neither of us spoke much, but it wasn’t necessary. The radio played an old song we both loved, and he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, lost in thought.  

When we reached the airport, he parked in the farthest corner of the lot.  

"You should go in," he said, but he didn’t move.  

I turned to him, studying every line of his face, memorizing him like a page I never wanted to forget.  

"You could stop me, you know," I whispered.  

His jaw clenched. "I could."  

I swallowed hard. "But you won’t."  

He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back against the headrest. "I never wanted to be the reason you stayed when you were meant to go."  

Tears burned at the edges of my eyes. "And if I wanted to?"  

He turned to me then, his eyes raw, exposed. "Then I would have been selfish enough to ask you to."  

My breath hitched. His hand found mine, fingers intertwining in a way that felt both new and achingly familiar.  

"You should go," he said again, softer this time.  

I nodded, even as my heart begged me to stay.  

I stepped out of the car, my legs heavy, my chest aching. When I reached the doors, I turned back.  

He was still there, watching me.  

One last glance.  

One last moment.  

And then, I walked inside.  

---

I never expected him to reply to my message.  

But as my plane soared above the clouds, my phone buzzed one last time.  

"In another lifetime, I'll come only for you. I'll make you mine. And you’ll never have to leave again."

A single tear slipped down my cheek, and for the first time, I allowed myself to believe in forever.